


something sweet

by Volo



Series: My Harry Potter Fanworks [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, I suppose this is ultimately a story about being really really into someone, Love/Hate, M/M, Obsessive Behavior (though in my defense I used canon as my guide), Post-Hogwarts, Premature Ejaculation, a potion I made up, they don't have sex before the potion has worn off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 18:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20625443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volo/pseuds/Volo
Summary: Somebody did something to him – drugged him or cursed him or something – and it probably wasn’t even Malfoy, and yet here Harry is, having spent the last hour breaking DMLE rules and laws to find out where Malfoy lives.





	something sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Bounding-Heart for the beta!! (and the positive feedback. without it I probably would have deleted the Word doc without posting about a week ago. I am trigger-happy like that.)  
Possible remaining mistakes and misjudgements are my own.
> 
> The name of the potion (Exsuscita-tincture) comes from the Latin word ‘exsuscitatur’, which means ‘it is awakened / excited / kindled / aroused’

The instant Malfoy opens the door, Harry falls face-first into his flat. Ears buzzing with need, he barely registers the dark wood floors underneath his hands and Malfoy’s stunned _‘Potter?’_

He pushes himself to his feet and shuffles forwards. ‘Malfoy,’ he whines. ‘I want –’

‘Are you – What’s wrong with you?’ Malfoy’s eyes flicker over Harry’s face.

Distantly, Harry knows, of course, that he isn’t behaving as he normally would. He may have been suspicious of Malfoy for a while, but the last few hours it’s been almost as if he's possessed, as if something is tearing away his self-control and making him act on every little impulse he’s suppressed so far during his unofficial investigation of Draco Malfoy.

Harry isn’t normally...like _this_. Breathless. Emotionally perched on a cliff edge. Whimpering quietly.

Somebody did something to him – drugged him or cursed him or something – and it probably wasn’t even Malfoy, and yet here Harry is, having spent the last hour breaking DMLE rules and laws to find out where Malfoy lives.

He becomes aware of the fact that he’s hanging onto the front of Malfoy’s poncy white silk pyjamas with both of his hands. Malfoy has his wand pointed at him.

Harry isn’t even aroused. He’s just...unfulfilled.

‘I want –’, he tries again, licks his lips.

Malfoy has gone very still. He asks, almost politely: ‘You want...?’

‘Yes.’ Harry nods. ‘Yeah. I do.’

‘Do you perhaps want to fucking let go of me?’

‘No, no, please,’ Harry shakes his head with wide eyes. ‘Do I have to? Will you make me?’

‘Potter,’ Malfoy’s voice drops while an unholy glint comes into his eyes. A glint that makes Harry lick his lips again. ‘Potter, just what have you _done_ to yourself?’

‘I don’t know. Are you going to make me leave now? Please don’t. I’ll be quiet and just sit in the corner.’ Harry’s voice is so _high_.

Moving very slowly, Malfoy puts his wand away and pushes Harry’s hands off him. He tells Harry, pronouncing every word with great care and barely concealed glee, ‘Your fingertips are red.’

It’s true; Harry’s fingertips are glowing neon red when they were perfectly Harry-coloured just two hours ago.

Malfoy’s whole pointed face is shining with smugness now. ‘You – I can’t believe it. Say, Potter, just between you and me...did you eat something sweet earlier, maybe roughly thirteen hours ago?’

Harry wracks his overwhelmed brain. ‘Adora gave me a box of sugar mice.’

It occurs to Harry, very belatedly, that he maybe should have started taking her advances more seriously when she asked him if he’d deliberately got demoted to see her again. He thought she was joking.

‘Who is that? And you just took it? Moron.’

Harry shakes his head, but he’s trembling too hard to properly _think_. His grip on himself is weakening and growing again in an uncontrollable rhythm. ‘Secretary. She’s nice. Or not, I suppose. I thought she was nice. Known her for a while.’

Malfoy snorts, chortles. ‘And that’s how easy it is to drug our _Great_ _Hero_ with Exsuscitatincture.’

‘With _what_? ‘Nd I’m not a hero.’

‘No, if the recent _Prophet_ articles are at least half true, you’re the most deranged Auror ever – and isn’t that truly a feat? The Boy Who Lived to Have Public Breakdown After Public Breakdown. Tell me, is it some sort of curse that makes one hunt for attention whenever possible, or is it genuine trauma?’

Harry wants to answer, but Malfoy pats his arm in mock-comfort and he loses his train of thought and just stares at Malfoy. There’s a torch floating in every corner of the entrance hall, and the orange light makes Malfoy’s white-blond hair shine golden. Harry wants nothing more than to memorise everything he can about him, but every new detail he notices just overwhelms him more.

Malfoy rolls his eyes ostentatiously, though he's smiling all the while. ‘You’re lucky it was Exsu and not poison or a love potion. Fuck me, the bitch actually thought she could unlock repressed feelings of some kind for her in you. If only –’ He leans closer. ‘– the poor darling knew. What you’ve really repressed.’

Harry whines again. He scuffles a small step forwards. ‘Please.’

Malfoy doesn’t move away, doesn’t push him. Harry’s counting his blessings. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific. What is it you want, Potty?’

He’s using an almost offensively casual voice, but of course Harry knows Malfoy is mocking him. Harry just can’t fucking stop. He probably wouldn’t even be able to stop if Malfoy Stupefied him – and that’s not too unlikely, even if he’s certain Malfoy would never kill him.

‘Please, I...I want to know what you’ve been doing. Where you’ve been. Today. Always. I want to be there. Where you are. Here.’

Malfoy just continues in that overly polite tone. ‘Well, why do you need to be where I am?’

‘Because...that’s where you are.’

Malfoy rolls his eyes again. ‘Even on Exsu, you’re still difficult.’

‘Sorry,’ Harry mumbles.

That has Malfoy looking as though Christmas came early. ‘Yeah, you should be. Now apologise for being an arrogant prat, too.’

Harry stares at him, not really wanting to. Malfoy raises a pale eyebrow, and Harry looks at his equally pale eyelashes, sees them flutter when Malfoy blinks. He says: ‘Sorry for being an arrogant prat. I suppose.’

‘I take it back, this is the most fun you’ve ever been. Now, tell me, Potter...what is it you get up to with Kingsley when you two have your little backroom meetings, hm?’

That gets Harry’s sanity back. He stops trembling and draws himself up. ‘We – What? What do _you_ get up to?! I know you’re up to something suspicious! I don’t care how much you’ve given to charit–’

‘Hush.’ Malfoy puts a long, pale finger on Harry’s lips, and Harry freezes. Malfoy speaks in a low murmur. ‘Settle down. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

Harry deflates immediately. Somewhere, in a distant corner of his brain, he’s screaming. Another corner is wondering what it’d taste like if he licked Malfoy’s finger, what he might be able to find out about Malfoy from that. He sighs when Malfoy takes it away again.

Malfoy cocks his head, smirking. ‘Tell me why you’re here. It’s two in the morning, isn’t it? Surely you have somewhere better to be. A bed, perhaps.’

‘No, I don’t.’ Harry shakes his head eagerly. A drop of sweat runs into his left eye. ‘I don’t have anywhere better to be. Are you going to bed now? I can come with you. I want to come with you.’

Malfoy snorts. He’s practically vibrating with delight. ‘My _word_. What a fascinating proposition. And then do what, hm? What is it you want to do, Potter?’

Harry flounders. ‘To do?’

‘Yes, Potter. For fuck’s sake. What exactly is the purpose of you accompanying me to bed? I’m afraid you’ll have to spell it out for me.’

‘Oh. No, it’s...it’s not like that.’

Malfoy scowls and hisses, ‘I’ll believe that when you get a Time-Turner and erase the last ten minutes.’

‘I mean, I just want to be there. I just want to watch you. Have to watch you. Want to watch you. Doing things.’

Harry isn’t even really embarrassed, even though he objectively knows that this might be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him. The Potion – _Exsu?_ – dulls all of that, his pride and inhibitions and critical thinking skills thrown to the wayside in this pursuit.

Malfoy gives him a sharp grin. He drawls, ‘Potter, I really should have known you are a pathetic fucking voyeur deep in your heart. I really should have known. “_Doing things”_?’

Harry nods breathlessly. He realises his hands are twitching.

‘What things?’

Harry knows Malfoy’s just going to run to the _Prophet_ with this or use it for whatever scheme he’s (_probably_?) working on, but he wracks his confused brain anyway, trying to find the words that’ll satisfy Malfoy’s need for humiliation. In the end, he can just come up with, ‘Everything.’

Malfoy puts his hands on Harry’s shoulders and presses Harry against the wall. ‘Potter, listen to me. I just might let you live out your inner dog and hump me a bit – settle the life debt – but only if you spell. It. All. Out. For me.’

Harry doesn’t punch him in his fucking face. Harry doesn’t break his fucking nose like he’s been imagining since Sixth Year. Harry doesn’t draw his wand and Hex the bastard. Harry doesn’t _leave_. Harry whimpers and rushes out: ‘I just can’t stop thinking about you. I go to shops you might frequent to accidentally run into you, my friends are so tired of me talking about you they’ve threatened to Hex me, I dream about you... I’m obsessed. I go insane every time I don’t know what you’re doing. I just – I just want to know what you’re doing and thinking at all times of the day; I just _have_ to fucking know _everything_!’

Malfoy’s grip on his shoulders wavers. Encouraged by this, Harry continues, ‘I thought it was because you’re up to something, but...I’ve never acted like this with anyone else I thought was doing something evil.’

Malfoy actually looks a bit overwhelmed with this flood of Harry’s most secret despairs he’s unlocked. ‘You don’t want to fuck me, do you?’

The fuzz in Harry’s brain is starting to lessen, but he still feels hopelessly lost and horribly helpless. ‘I, er.’

‘Let me rephrase,’ Malfoy drawls, eyes glittering with excitement. ‘You don’t _just_ want to fuck me. You’re fascinated. Enraptured. Enthralled. And _that’s_ why you’re, as you so beautifully put it, _obsessed_. Isn’t it?’

‘I’m fascinated,’ Harry murmurs. His sanity may be returning in bits, but they both know it's true at this point.

‘That’s why you’re obsessed,’ Malfoy says encouragingly.

‘...That’s why I’m obsessed.’

‘Again.’ Malfoy sounds very pleased.

‘...Again.’

‘Don’t think I didn’t notice you making detours just to spy on me when we were in school. Turns out...you weren’t suspicious. You just wanted to cry over how my profile looks in the sunlight. Fancy that.’

Tangible mortification kicks in, and Harry raises a hand to run through his hair. Before his eyes, Harry’s fingertips lose the last of their neon colour; the fog in his mind clears – the Potion has finally fully worn off. Malfoy’s eyes widen, but the realisation comes too late for him. Harry grabs him and turns them around, pushing Malfoy against the wall, hissing, ‘You were attempting murder.’

Malfoy flails and goes for his wand, but Harry has always had the faster reflexes; he gets to Malfoy’s wand first and flings it away. When Malfoy tries to lunge after it, Harry throws his entire body weight forwards, pressing him into the wall, this time with Malfoy’s front against the stone. He grabs for Malfoy’s arms, tries to wrench them back. Desperate embarrassment is fuelling his actions. When Malfoy twists his arms free of his grip, he pushes him into the wall with his body again, even harder – and is caught off guard when Malfoy goes limp and shudders and moans, hips suddenly working in small circles.

‘Are – Did you –’ Harry stammers while Malfoy gives a tiny whimper and hangs his head in defeat.

Heart hammering in his chest and throat, Harry grabs Malfoy’s shoulder and turns him around. His head is swimming with shocked disbelief as he takes a step back to stare at Malfoy. He avoids Harry’s eyes, and it becomes even clearer why when Harry drops his gaze to the wet stain on Malfoy’s silk pyjama bottoms. Harry gets hard so fast it almost makes him dizzy. He makes a noise deep in his chest, which kicks Malfoy into action.

‘Fuck off, Potter; never seen an inappropriate erection before?’

‘It’s not an erection anymore, though, is it?’

Malfoy is blushing deeper than Harry’s ever seen him do before, his whole face pink and appealing, and all Harry can think is, _he just came; he just came when I pushed him against a wall; I just felt him orgasm and it was from practically nothing_.

He can still feel the phantom sensation of Malfoy shaking against him.

Malfoy raises his pointy chin. ‘I hope you realise I’m going to have you fired for breaking into my home and harassing and molesting me. I have friends in high places who would love to hear more stories about the Pervert Who Lived.’

Harry leans forwards, memorising how it feels when their chests brush. He places a hand on Malfoy’s sharp hipbone, and Malfoy goes still and looks at him. The light is low, but close as they are Harry can clearly see Malfoy's dilated pupils. Harry’s cock throbs, but he manages to keep his tone casual. ‘I thought I was the Boy Who Lived to Have Public Breakdown After Public Breakdown?’

Malfoy’s voice is strained now. ‘You have many titles, Your Highness.’

‘If you ask nicely, I’ll wank you.’

With a clearer head, Harry can see the goose bumps break out on Malfoy’s skin. ‘Always knew you were a wanker.’

Harry doesn’t move. ‘How did I miss it? There’s nothing you want more.’

Finally, huffing, Malfoy reaches out and pulls him closer. He lets a hand slide down Harry’s back until it’s placed on his arse. His smell makes Harry think of fancy antique bedframes and overly soft mattresses and _fucking_. 

‘Look who’s talking, Mr. I’m-Obsessed-With-You. As if this isn’t your wildest dreams come true. If you’re so desperate to touch my cock, I suppose I’ll allow it.’

Harry shakes his head. ‘I’m not the one who just came prematurely. And do you know what "nicely" means?’

Malfoy makes a frustrated sound. ‘It’d be _nice_ if you wanked me, yeah? I wouldn’t be too opposed.’

Harry slips a hand into Malfoy’s silk bottoms and hums at the wet half-hard erection he finds. ‘At least you recovered quickly.’

Malfoy throws his head back when Harry starts wanking him off, his Adam’s apple shining with sweat. His voice is breathless when he answers, ‘Fuck off.’

Harry tries for an unaffected tone. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m trying to do... So, you fancy me a lot, then, huh? Because I like to hope you normally have more stamina. I’m doing you a favour here.’

Malfoy grits out, ‘You’re making no fucking sense.’

‘Tell me more about your secret feelings for me. Since you hid them so well, there’s no way of telling when they began, so I’m going to assume they started a long time ago. Maybe the whole pathetic thing with the badges was just your way of begging me to let you smell me just once. Is that it, huh, Malfoy?’

Malfoy’s eyes are squeezed closed, his breaths coming quickly. Harry longs to touch himself, his jeans way too tight now, but he ignores it. There’s nothing in the world that could make him let go of Malfoy, not now that he’s properly fucking into Harry’s hand, now that he’s squeezing Harry’s arse.

And despite everything, the bastard still says, ‘Wishful thinking... Remember how just ten minutes ago you, oh, begged to not be thrown out?’

‘Remember that time you embarrassed yourself publicly in order to get my attention? Oh wait, that happened daily when we were at school. You practically followed me around...Potter this and Potter that around every corner. And it didn’t stop after school either, did it?’ Harry’s heart is racing. ‘Those times I thought you were up to something because you wouldn’t stop slinking around Auror Headquarters even though nobody there would ever let in _anyone_ who spent a year in Azkaban, let alone you...those were just because you wanted a glimpse of me.’

He’s just following his instincts now, and he’d think everything he’s saying was absurd if it weren’t for the way Malfoy’s barely protesting his assumptions anymore and is just melting against the wall.

‘Since when, Malfoy?’

‘Piss off,’ Malfoy murmurs. His eyes shoot open when Harry – so reluctantly it makes his teeth grind – pulls his hand away. ‘That’s not what I meant, you arsehole. You’re not seriously so self-absorbed you’re going to stop now, are you?’

Harry grins at him. Grins and doesn’t do anything else. ‘Tell me.’

Malfoy crosses his arms. ‘That one _Prophet_ pic of you after you fell into that fountain.’

But Harry knows him too well now; he can tell when he’s lying. Harry draws back and falls to his knees, pulling Malfoy’s pyjama bottoms down with him. There’s a sharp gasp. He mouths at Malfoy’s pink cock and says, ‘Tell me the truth.’

‘Fuck. You – Fuck. Since school, since – since I had my first _wank_, you massive bastard. Now...’

‘Thought so.’

When Harry puts a hand on Malfoy’s hip to ensure he doesn’t move too much and takes his cock into his mouth, swallows him down as far as he can, it’s with relief on his own part, too. He’s fantasised about doing something like this for a man, has woken from dreams with his jaw aching in phantom pain. He’s nervous at the thought of somehow doing it wrong, but the action comes naturally. And causes a strange satisfaction to pool in his stomach. He’d _loved_ licking Ginny, the two times he’d done it before they realised their relationship had fizzled out, and this is very different but just as arousing. Malfoy tastes heavy on his tongue, a full and rich salty taste that Harry couldn’t describe if anyone asked him. He imagines a circle of scientists with clipboards sitting around him, asking him to please define the complexity and character of the flavour, and almost chokes.

He pulls back and tongues at the slit, and Malfoy makes a sound above him as if somebody punched him in the stomach. Harry realises that his eyes are closed and opens them, looking up at Malfoy.

‘Fucking hell, Potter,’ Malfoy chokes out, and Harry readjusts his idea of how much Draco Malfoy wants him once again. Because surely nobody else would look as if they’re losing their mind from Harry’s first attempt at a blow job. But there Malfoy is, wheezing, hands scrabbling at the wall.

Harry draws back, fumbling to pull his own jeans and pants down, and says, ‘You taste brilliant,’ and Malfoy gasps for air for a second.

Just to see Malfoy’s reaction, Harry adds, ‘I want you to come in my mouth.’

He gets a drawn-out whine and a frantic nod. ‘Yes, yes, Potter, come on, come _on_! What are you waiting for?’

Harry fake-frowns. ‘That’s not very polite, is it?’

‘_Please_, Potter.’

And _that_ changes things. Harry goes back to sucking and licking and swallowing as much as he can, eyes watering. They both moan when Harry finally gets a hand around his own cock. From then on it all builds very quickly, Draco’s sounds and taste and smell spurring Harry on.

Malfoy comes without warning, swearing in a high pitch all the while, and Harry chokes and pulls off and swallows it all, never once stopping his movement on his own cock. When he leans back to look Malfoy in the face, he sees Malfoy staring at the movement of Harry’s right hand on his prick, staring as intently as if it were a deadly snake or a ground-breaking piece of art. He reaches out to Harry and pulls him up, then bats Harry’s hand away and wraps his own around Harry’s cock instead, never once looking away. Harry gasps. He thinks he wants to stay here with Draco Malfoy’s hand and pretty pale eyes on his cock until he dies.

Even as he thinks this, the tell-tale tingling in his thighs begins, and he hisses, ‘Fuck.’

Malfoy looks up and says, ‘Come on, Potter, let me see you come,’ in that horribly snooty voice of his, but it’s still the best idea he’s ever had.

And then Malfoy licks his lips and that’s it, Harry’s coming, all over Malfoy’s hand and pyjama top.

‘Well, that wasn’t half bad,’ he hears as if from far away. Harry blinks, then blinks again. Malfoy, obviously grasping for nonchalance, pulls his hand away and asks, ‘Same time tomorrow?’

Harry clears his throat before answering, ‘You mean two AM?’

'I suppose that could be considered a bit late by some people.'

Harry fumbles for his wand and casts a Scourgify at himself. He pulls his jeans back up. Malfoy still hasn’t moved. They look at each other. Eventually Malfoy drawls, ‘We should have dinner first, then. Here.’

Harry exhales sharply. Even as he wonders how he’s going to explain the change in his relationship with Draco Malfoy to Ron and Hermione, and even as warning bells ring in his mind telling him the whole thing is a horrible idea, he says, ‘Right, okay, yeah. Yeah. I’ll just...come around eight, then?’

Malfoy gives a jerky nod. He adds, ‘Wear dress robes.’

Harry snorts. ‘Or what? You’ll close the door in my face? You’d never.’

And when Malfoy bristles and flusters at that, Harry just smiles at him and Apparates home.

**Author's Note:**

> To completely misquote John Mulaney, "I'd never say that Draco is a shit and I don't like him. Draco is a shit and I like him so much!"


End file.
